Unshackled
by Lopithecus
Summary: Clark finds out something about his relationship with Bruce that breaks his heart and changes their relationship forever.


**Unshackled**

 **A/N: This was inspired by _Shackles_ by littlechinesedoll on AO3. Enjoy!**

Clark stares out the Watchtower's window, gazing down on Earth. Under normal circumstances, Clark's mind would be occupied with thoughts of the beautiful planet and its people. But today, Clark's thoughts are elsewhere. His eyes are unfocused and his chest feels as if it was being squeezed so tightly that he can't breathe. He's listening to Bruce. His boyfriend's moan is coming from across the other side of the Watchtower, from inside Hal Jordan's sleeping quarters. The vigilante is currently having another wild sexual encounter with the Green Lantern and their pleasure reverberates loud in Clark's red tipped ears.

Clark knows he shouldn't be listening, it's an invasion of privacy, but he's a glutton for punishment. Hearing the one he thought of as his boyfriend, being pounded into by someone other than himself, hurts. It sets fire to his chest and Clark has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions in check. Tears want to fall at the pain inside but they are pushed down by thinking of the betrayal he feels. Clark is going to be strong, at least for now. There is time to mourn his so called relationship later. He focusses on how stupid he feels, how ignorant he has been of the situation. As much as the sense of loss is overwhelming, his inherent feeling of idiocy keeps his feet firmly planted on the deck. No, he won't run away this time. The Kryptonian takes a deep breath and centers himself once more. He can do this. He needs to do this. With his resolve once more in place, he glances down at the blue green globe below.

The sound of boots on the metal floor catches his attention and he turns to see Diana approaching. "Kal, are you ready for the meeting?"

He smiles at the Amazonian, masking what he's really feeling. "Of course. I'll be right there." Diana nods and walks past him. Clark lets his smile slip, just in time to hear Bruce come. It's not just Hal that Bruce has been having sex with. Diana has also been one of the guilty parties, participating in the whole messy situation. Clark had caught the two, a mere three weeks ago, in a storage compartment. Diana had been pushed against the wall and Bruce had been thrusting into her as if his life depended on it. Clark had been shocked to discover the two together. He had wanted to confront Bruce immediately, but some of their conversation made him hesitate. This wasn't the first time he had been with her, and when he heard them make plans to meet up again, it had felt like he had been broken in two. He had left the Watchtower in a hurry that day. In the end, Diana was the first of many that Clark had caught Bruce cheating on him with. From that initial moment, after he caught Bruce with Diana, he had kept an eye and ear out for more escapades with the Princess, which is how he discovered it's much worse than he first thought. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine just how bad it is. It has cut him deeply. The longer he dwells on the situation, the more it hurts. Now he has come to a decision and it feels good. No more is he going to be the fool, played by these people, by Bruce. It is time.

Clark steels himself and walks slowly to the conference room. By the time he enters, everyone is already there, including Bruce. Clark can smell the sex on both men. The man he thought was his boyfriend and Hal. His chest clenches even more and he takes his place at the head of the table. "Hey, big guy. You okay? You're never late," Barry asks him.

Clark looks at Barry. "I'm fine." He then looks around the room. Diana, Hal, Barry, and Arthur. Nearly every single member of the Justice League is guilty but none show it on their faces. Bruce has been, and is continuing to have sex with them all regularly. Clark thought he had been in an exclusive relationship with the Bat. He wanted to punch something or someone and standing there, in front of all of them, he wonders how his friends can betray him like this and still look him in the eye.

Of course when considering the events, Clark assumes they couldn't have really been his friends to begin with. How could they? He has to stop a strangled laugh from escaping as he watches them go about League business, as if everything is normal. From what he has heard from his spying on Bruce, everyone knows who Bruce has been sleeping with, that each and every single one of them shares Bruce's bed and body. All of them have been aware from the beginning, except him. But now he does know and he can't help but feel betrayed by his colleagues, and most of all by Bruce.

Clark licks his lips and takes a deep breath. He finally starts the discussion about League business. Going over maintenance and Monitor Duty schedules, pretending and faking, wishing he could just leave. He doesn't want to look at them, doesn't want to talk to them. Being in the same room with them makes his gut churn, and he feels nauseous. When he finishes, he dismisses everyone and they get up out of their chairs, preparing to leave. Clark watches Bruce, watches how the man walks with such confidence and poise. Clark loves him and hates him. His heart clenches in his chest. He would give anything to be Bruce's only one. But it's too late for that. Too late for everything. It's now or never. He has to speak up. It's time.

"Wait." The Leaguers stop, turning to look at him curiously. "There's actually one last thing." He looks at the table and swallows hard. He's put a lot of thought to what he is about to say and didn't realize it was going to be so hard. He's the strongest man on the planet but doesn't feel like it at this moment. He's determined that today is going to be the day he speaks up. He'd decided even before the meeting was called. He needed to do this for himself, for his sanity. It's so much harder than he thought it was going to be. He blinks his eyes a few times, keeping the unleashed tears at bay. Not yet, he tells himself. Clark wants nothing more than to go to Bruce and lose himself in those strong arms. But he can't keep doing this to himself. He can't keep acting as if he's fine being in a room full of people who would backstab him, laugh at him and break his heart. "I've decided to quit the League." Clark ignores the way his voice wavers. The room is silent and when Clark looks up, he looks directly at Bruce. "Effective immediately."

Turning, he walks out of the room, ignoring Hal's call for an explanation and Bruce's eyes following him out. Clark makes it all the way to the teleporters before being stopped, which is surprising. He had expected the first people to be Diana or Barry, to come after him, to chase him down long before now. Knowing that they didn't, makes the pain in his chest increase, solidifying his belief that they don't care about him. The crushing feeling in his soul makes his whole body ache. He keeps the tears at bay. Just a little longer, he tells himself.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bruce asks.

Clark doesn't turn around to answer the man. Instead he focuses on entering his coordinates. "Going home."

"Don't play dumb with me Kent." Clark says nothing to this, ignoring Bruce. He doesn't want to talk to anyone, and especially not to Bruce. Not now, not with the struggle inside himself. He's determined not to cry in front of any of them, and not in front of Bruce. He can practically feel it when Bruce's eyes narrow, drilling into his back with suspicion. There's silence as Clark finishes his coordinates. As he starts to walk over to the transport platform, Bruce's voice fills the space, echoing hollowly in the vast room. "You know don't you?"

Clark stops dead in his tracks, hearing the amusement in Bruce's voice. The tone makes him angry. He struggles not to clench his fists or turn towards the man. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Bruce chuckles. "About the sex." Clark finally whirls and looks at the man. Bruce is smirking at him. "You didn't actually think what we were doing was serious did you?" Clark makes sure to breathe calmly, ignoring the sting in his chest. "Clark, I was just using you. Just like I am using the others."

"Except they could know right?" he asks. He's determined not to let Bruce see how much the words hurt.

Bruce chuckles again. "The reason why you couldn't know was because you're too sensitive. How was I supposed to have sex with you when you would just refuse to share me?" Clark bites the inside of his cheek. He's not going to cry, he won't give Bruce the satisfaction of knowing he's hit the mark with the words he spoke. Bruce looks him up and down, smirk still set in place. When a thought dawns on the man, it shows as Bruce's smile gets bigger and his eyes shine with mirth. "Wait a minute, Clark. You're in love with me aren't you?" Bruce chuckles mockingly. "Oh, Clark, you're such an idiot."

Anger erupts in Clark's chest and he clenches his hands into tight fists. He has to fight down the fire banking in his eyes. What would Bruce know about falling in love? The man has never romantically loved anyone in his life. Bruce has no right to call Clark an idiot for feeling such a thing. Dismissing Clark's feelings this way, invalidating them and turning them into a big joke. This man has no right to laugh in his face and act as if Clark isn't hurt by the whole situation. Clark narrows his eyes and bites out, "I actually don't." Clark shrugs as nonchalantly as possible. "How can I love someone as broken as you?" He turns, not missing the flinch from Bruce. He's sure the man had thought the reaction was hidden him. It was a low blow and it certainly didn't make Clark feel any better, but he wants to hurt Bruce like the vigilante hurt him. Clark wants to lash out. He wants Bruce to know what pain is. More than anything, he wants Bruce to feel what it's like to have his heart broken too. But he doesn't. He won't give the black clad vigilante the satisfaction.

Ignoring his internal struggle, he walks over to the platform, activating the transport. He's beamed down to Metropolis and from there he flies back to his apartment, ignoring the tears that sting his eyes. He's stopped holding them back and they stream down his cheeks. Once inside the building, he wipes them away and strips out of his Superman uniform, finally crawling into bed and the small comfort it brings. There, Clark lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, losing himself in his own thoughts. Bruce is right. Clark is an idiot. He should have known. He should have known to not fall in love with Bruce, to believe that what they had was special. Clark should have realized that Bruce wouldn't love him. That Bruce wouldn't actually care about him.

But he had loved Bruce long before they ever started having sex. Maybe that's why he was so willing to go along with it in the first place. He feels like a prize idiot. Remembering when Bruce had come to him, the way his heart had leapt for joy at finally having Bruce in his arms. He had believed that his one sided love was returned and revelled in it. How wrong he had been at that moment. He knows better now. Bruce is just a sex hungry whore. Clark flinches at the crude thoughts. But it's a truth he can't hide from. Clark had been used for sex and his love had never been reciprocated by the Bat.

Tears begin to sting his eyes once more and he reaches up to wipe them away only to end up covering his eyes with his hand, sobbing into his palm. A stream of tears roll down his temples, making his pillowcase wet. Clark doesn't want to cry over Bruce. To cry over someone who didn't care about his feelings. To cry over friends who turned out to be anything but his friends. None of them deserve it. But it hurts. It hurts to be betrayed by everyone. It hurts to realize that everything was a fraud. All the betrayals cut him so deeply that he's struggling to breathe through it. He feels like it's the end of his world. In a sense it is. He's quit the League, left his so called friends behind, and Bruce. Just thinking the name makes the lump in his throat double in size. He tries to breathe around it but can't. He's quite simply heartbroken. Nothing is going to change that.

Clark turns onto his side and cries into his pillow; loud, wet sobs coming from his mouth and muffled by the padding. He doesn't know how long he cries for, doesn't really care. He lets it all out. All the pain he's feeling. All the regret. It erupts from him and doesn't seem to end. But he does quiet eventually, feeling hollow and empty, falling asleep to the sound of his own sniffles. He dreams of Bruce and Kryptonite, of blood and heartache.

Clark awakes with a start, his room plunged in darkness. Clark looks at the clock on his nightstand. It's three in the morning. Slowly, he sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, only to stop suddenly as his eyes adjust to the dark. Standing at the end of his bed is a figure in a Bat costume. Clark scowls, his anger coming back full force. It hits him with the force of a freight train. "Don't you know it's creepy to stand there, watching people sleep?"

Bruce crosses his arms. "You always wanted to watch me sleep."

Clark scoffs, looking away from Bruce. He doesn't want to look at the man he loved, the man who ultimately betrayed him. "What do you want Bruce?"

Bruce's arms uncross, hanging by his side. "Earlier, you said you didn't love me. I want to know if it was true."

"Of course it was true." Clark makes to get up but Bruce kneels down on the bed, straddling his legs above the covers.

Bruce slowly and seductively slides up the bed, until he gets close to Clark's face, smirking. "Well then you wouldn't have a problem having sex with me right now." The man places a hand on Clark's chest, pushing him down.

Clark goes willingly, breath hitching. "Stop," he whispers, feeling how Bruce's hand rubs against his chest as his back hits the mattress. Clark can already feel his body starting to react. He'd love to give in, but he can't. Remembering the sounds of Bruce pounding into Diana or the sounds Bruce made when Hal or Barry made him come, reminds him. No, he doesn't want to react to that body pressing against him. He doesn't want this. Bruce crawls up Clark's body, breath ghosting his skin. "No. I don't want to. Stop."

"Come on Clark," Bruce says, hovering over Clark's lips. "It shouldn't be a problem." Bruce smirks at him.

Seeing the smile brings the pain back in Clark's chest and the tears return. He feels pathetic and stupid. He thinks this is what it must feel like to be a piece of garbage, used and thrown away for newer and better toys. He feels as if his heart is being ripped in two and crushed between Bruce's fingers. All while Bruce seems to be laughing at him, mocking him. As Bruce begins to lean down to connect their lips, Clark turns his head away. Bruce's breath is hot on his cheek. A part of his heart wishes he could change Bruce at that moment. If turning his head into the kiss that is waiting for him would change the cold heart beneath the black uniform, he would. Clark thinks for a moment that he could do it, he could prove to the Bat that love is real and worth it. But his memory supplies him with the mocking conversations he's overheard. The way Bruce called other people's names when he came. The way his supposed friends had laughed. The tears run down across his nose. "Stop, please," he whimpers, not even sure if he has said it loud enough.

Bruce stops and Clark avoids eye contact. There's silence for a split second before Bruce starts laughing. It's deep tone cuts him and Clark feels like dying. "I was right." Fingers wrap around his jaw, turning his head to face Bruce, eyes locking. He has the strength to deny the movement but he doesn't. He feels weak. "Such an idiot." Even Bruce's tone is mocking now. There is no shred of love or care in that voice. Clark's shoulders shake as he tries to not cry but tears spill out of his eyes anyway. Bruce gets off him and the bed. The broad shoulders shake with mirth and the knife just cuts deeper.

Clark tries to breath evenly as he sits up, watching Bruce walk to his balcony door. "That's it?" Clark swallows, feeling once again, his anger rising. He gets up off the bed, glaring at the vigilante. How could he have thought this man anything but cruel. It seems so obvious now. Clark had been blinded by his crush on the vigilante, by his one sided love. Bruce turns to him and Clark wishes he could see the man's eyes. "That's all you came here for? To make a fool out of me?"

"Not a fool Clark," Bruce says. "To see if I was right and I was."

"And what? Figuring out that you are correct, that I do love you, means you can just mock me and put me down for it?"

Bruce shrugs nonchalantly. "It's not my fault you let feelings develop."

"You're the one who came to me about the sex!" Clark yells, flinching at his own raised voice. He doesn't want his neighbors to wake up and hear him. He didn't want to let Bruce see how upset he was, but he can't help himself.

Bruce shrugs again and Clark clenches his jaw. "Exactly. No strings attached sex."

"And did it ever cross your mind that maybe, just maybe, that I was already in love with you _before_ we started having sex?" Clark asks angrily, gesturing with his hands wildly. "Why else do you think I even agreed to it in the first place, Bruce? For kicks?"

The room is plummeted into silence as Bruce and Clark have a stare off. Bruce's eyes are narrowed and Clark's are red and puffy from crying. It feels like minutes before Bruce finally speaks. "That's your problem Clark. Not mine and certainly not the League's."

"Not the League's?" Clark asks, incredulous. "None of them told me what you were all doing! It was just a big ol' joke to everyone. I was a big joke to all of you. They were all in on it, Bruce. Every single one of you, the people who I thought were my friends, all of you betrayed me. You would talk about me, laugh at me, whenever you were with the others, especially Hal. He thinks it's fucking hilarious, and you encourage him! How else am I supposed to feel?" Clark can feel his face heat with the flush of anger that's rising inside him. He's letting all the frustration out but it's not helping like he thought it would.

Bruce laughs and steps towards the balcony once more. "More fool you Clark. I never made promises to you." He opens the door letting in the cool night air. Clark can feel the hot tears on his cheeks rapidly changing temperature.

"Did it ever mean anything to you Bruce?"

Bruce doesn't answer. Stepping through the door, the night lights seem absorbed into the darkness of his uniform. "Clark" he says softly. The moment is suspended in time as it drags out. It feels like forever, but is mere seconds before heavy boots are on the railing. Bruce glances back one more time and Clark knows he looks like a mess. The Bat simply exhales and leaps into the night. Clark looks up at the sky as his throat constricts. Any chances of reconciliation, no matter how small, are now gone. He closes the door with a sigh and walks back to sit on the edge of his bed. Overwhelmingly, he's feeling despondent and alone.

Clark sits there, staring at his clock, watching as the time ticks by slowly. After watching two minutes pass, of wallowing in his loneliness, he sluggishly reaches over to the nightstand for his cellphone. Going to his contacts, he taps his mother's name and brings the phone to his ear. It takes his Mom a long time to answer. Clark can't blame her. It is early in Kansas as well and his mother should be sleeping beside Clark's Dad.

The phone is finally picked up and Clark is greeted by a long yawn. "Hello?"

"Ma?"

"Clark?" There's a pause as Martha looks at the clock. "It's two in the morning honey. What's wrong? Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

Clark chuckles dryly. "It's three here." Silence and any humor Clark was feeling flutters away just as quickly as it came. Clark can feel the tears that just don't seem to want to leave him alone, pool up in his eyes. He reaches up with a hand and wipes them away only for more to come and roll down his cheeks. "Ma, why am I so alone?" Saying it makes it real, digs the hole in his heart deeper and deeper. It just hurts so bad. One whimper escaping his mouth is what makes him lose it. Clark brings a hand up to his mouth, tries to muffle his sobs, but he's not doing a very good job of it and he knows his Mom can hear him.

Martha listens to him cry for a few seconds before she speaks, her voice soft and concerned. "What makes you say that, sweetheart?"

Clark sniffles, wiping once more at his cheeks. He can't keep up with the tears that are falling. "Everyone hates me. My friends. Bruce."

"Bruce?" Martha sounds angry, her voice becoming hard and judgemental. "What did he do now?" It's no secret to Martha. She's known that Clark has loved the man for years and that Clark has been hurt by him on more than one occasion.

"I don't want to talk about it," Clark tells his Mom. "I just…" He thinks again about how all his friends betrayed him. How they all joined in on Bruce cheating on him. How they really aren't his friends after all. Clark looks at his lap, feeling like his whole world is collapsing. He wonders if this is how the people of Krypton felt in their last seconds of living. "They don't care about me, Ma. The League. They don't care."

Martha's voice changes back to concern. "Clark, I don't understand. I _can't_ understand if you don't explain it to me. Let me help you."

"It doesn't matter now. They aren't my friends, Bruce is no longer my best friend, and I'm alone," he says.

"Now you listen here," Martha starts, firm and demanding. "You are anything but alone Clark Joseph Kent. You have me and you have your father. You also have Lois and Jimmy and any other work friends you might have."

"But-"

"No buts. I don't ever want to hear you say you are alone." Clark wipes at his eyes. He's finally stopped crying but now his eyes sting. "You will never be alone as long as your father and I are around." Clark stays silent. He called his mother for comfort but now that he's getting it, he doesn't really want to listen to it. It's not reassuring him the way he thought it would. The words Martha speaks aren't helping him feel any better, and isn't helping the crushing loneliness he is feeling to go away. "Clark?"

He doesn't want to talk to Martha anymore. He can't take the pity he can hear in her voice. He knows she's trying to help but it's just not working. "Thanks Ma," he says abruptly.

"Clark wait-" Clark hangs up before his Mom can say another word. He wipes a hand down his face tiredly. He's done way too much crying today. Way too much crying over a man who doesn't even deserve his grief or his love.

With a little hiccup, Clark gets up off the bed, puts on his Superman uniform, and flies out of his apartment. He can't stand being there any longer. He has to leave . He has to get away from everything, where he can be alone and not be bothered. Clark decides to head North, flying as fast as he dares in the cities but as soon as he reaches the point in which there are no more buildings, he goes at top speed. Feeling the wind on his face makes him forget about Bruce for a moment. He's always loved flying, of all his powers, it's the most uplifting.

When he lands in front of the Fortress of Solitude, he looks it over. It always amazes Clark at its size and beauty. Crystal like structures poke out of the ice, spearing the sky. They glint in the low Arctic sunlight but Clark has always enjoyed it more at night. The way the moon hits the translucent building causes a beautiful shine of white sparkle. The way the colours reflect when the Aurora Borealis is at it's peak. He's always wanted to show Bruce the sight since the man has only seen the Fortress during the day. He supposes that will never happen now.

With a heavy heart, he unlocks the door and heads inside, making sure to lock the door behind him. Bruce has a key, and so does Diana, but Clark doubts they will be coming. None of the Leaguers will bother to wonder where he is. Bruce will make sure of that. The Bat will give them a bullshit excuse that will explain Clark's absence. He smiles wryly. He used to love Bruce's excuses for them to spend time together. Now he knows that those excuses were also used for the man to spend time having sex with the others too. A Bat full of excuses for everything. Except an excuse for not loving Clark in return. Sighing, he just shakes his head. Bruce will tell them a lie, or perhaps the truth, in that scornful tone. It doesn't matter what the vigilante tells them. Clark doesn't care anymore. He's not there and that should speak volumes.

It's not like Clark is planning on staying gone long anyway. Just because he's hurt, doesn't mean the people of the world have to suffer for it. He'll still save the day, pretend everything's okay, and come back to the Fortress where he can be by himself, be alone once more. But Clark also needs a few days to get himself together, to mend his broken heart. At the moment, it doesn't feel like that is even possible. He feels completely shattered.

Clark decides to head back to bed. All his crying has made him tired and if he's honest with himself, he wants to forget the world, even just for a few hours. Sleep is the best escape. Clark walks into his bedroom, stares at the large bed, and thinks about all the times he and Bruce had sex on it. The sting in his chest returns tenfold and Clark's bottom lip quivers. Now he knows all those times were for nothing but Bruce's own pleasure.

Clark had shared so many things with the man in this room. His deepest thoughts and secrets, his wishes, and even his love though it was non-verbal. Clark had given all of himself, believing that he was finally in the relationship he had desired for so long. Perhaps it was that long held crush that blinded him to how Bruce really felt. Perhaps his happiness at finally feeling like his wishes had come true made him look past small things. Whatever it was, he should have realized that Bruce didn't feel the same when Bruce never reciprocated, never put in the same effort. The man would just grunt, sounding tired but Clark now knows he was just disinterested. The man never cared. But at the time Clark had just thought that was Bruce being Bruce. That all that needed to happen was for the Bat to warm up to Clark. That the man would eventually get there and return Clark's affections.

But Clark was wrong and it hurts. It makes him so angry that he could punch something. Being used by the man he loved never crossed his mind. He didn't think Bruce would be so cruel as to do such a thing to him. He had thought Bruce was his best friend, cared about him. The truth is a wrench in Clark's chest, causing it to constrict and his stomach to flip. The anger and frustration rises within and he wants to throw a tantrum, a pity party, but he's Superman and Superman doesn't do that. He can't do that. Superman is supposed to be happy all the time. Superman isn't supposed to have bad days. Expectations weigh heavily upon him.

Clark sighs and turns around, leaving the room, with his anger rising in his chest. He can't bear to look at the bed, at the place of such intimacy. The taste in the back of his throat is sickening. He feels ill just remembering what happened in there. How dare Bruce treat him like some kind of tool in his utility belt. How dare the League treat him as if he doesn't matter. He'll show them. He'll make them understand. They'll learn. Treating him as if he isn't a vital part of the team. How dare all of them hurt him in such a way to make Clark feel like a fool. They are the ones who are doing the damage. How dare they! No more! Never again will he be used like this, be treated this way. They'll see. And when they do, they will be so sorry.

Clark screams his anger, alerting one of the nearby AI units. The thing floats up to him but Clark ignores it, stomping past. His anger is building at the whole situation, at Bruce, at the League, and mostly at himself. He was stupid. So fucking stupid. Why would Bruce love someone like him? Why would Clark convince himself that Bruce is capable of such a thing? He fooled himself into believing it, told himself over and over again that he can make Bruce open up, love him. He'd truly believed it, and opened his heart. Now it is a crushed, useless thing. A lump in his chest, hurting more than kryptonite ever could. He hates it, hates how he feels. The rage continues to build like an unstoppable force. His teeth clench and grind together, his head pounds. He needs to vent this frustration before it crushes him beneath the weight of despair.

Clark punches the wall, a few of the ice crystals crumbling to the floor. His blood is boiling and he wants the hurt to go away. He wants to focus on the anger, bury the feeling of betrayal so far down that he can't even feel an ounce of it. Pulling his fist away from the wall, he starts walking towards his destination once more. When he arrives, he takes a deep breath, opens the door, and steps in. He's made a decision. Not the first one for today, not the biggest one, but an important one all the same. There's a way to make the flaring in his chest settle, the bile in his throat stop rising, and the pounding in his head subside. He knows Bruce would laugh at him for his decision and it makes him more determined than ever. Bruce, the name conjures up too many memories and there's a sure fire way to make it stop. He's done it before, a long time ago, and it will work again. He's so sure this is the right thing to do. The one thing that will make it all just leave him alone, make it stop and give him a different kind of peace.

Inside the room, there are a selection of lead boxes lined up against the wall on a shelf. Clark walks up to one of them, picking it up. His heart starts racing at the memory of what is inside the little box. He opens it and stares at the ring with the small, red gem embedded in it. He reaches into the box and as soon as he touches the ring, he feels the effect of the red kryptonite. Clark takes a deep breath as the high of adrenaline rushes through him, sighing out as the ring is slipped onto his finger. All his problems, all his hurt, disappear in an instant. The weight of the world on his shoulders is completely gone.

Clark slowly smiles, feeling the best he's ever felt since this whole situation started. It feels good to not care about Bruce and his friends' betrayal. It feels great to not even care about them period. All of his pain is gone and he feels high. "Now this is more like it," he says to himself, smile growing larger.

With another deep breath, Clark closes the box and sets it back down. He then goes to the room that houses the computer. Bruce was the one to set it up, supplying the battery power for it, and making sure to keep it up to date and running. Clark figures that will be his job from now on but he doesn't care. That's fine by him if it means Bruce stays away. After all, why would he want someone who Clark has nothing but anger towards, anywhere near his Fortress and computer?

Clicking a button on the keyboard, he brings up the program the Watchtower uses to monitor activities on Earth. He wants a fight, needs to punch something, yell at something, anything. Clark hopes as the program searches that something Earth threatening happens. Without the red kryptonite being on his finger, he wouldn't wish such a thing. People could get hurt or killed if something threatened the Earth. But right now he is more concerned about taking his rising anger out on the next poor soul that dares to attack Earth.

When the computer comes up with nothing, Clark slams his hands down onto the crystal desk. More pieces fall to the ground. "Damn it!" He fumes at the computer monitor, resisting the urge to either punch it or use his heat vision to melt the thing down. "Come on you piece of-" He's cut off when the alarm sounds from the computer, the red warning sign flashing on the screen. Clark grins. "Finally."

He turns and flies out of his Fortress, headed towards New York. Clark really couldn't have asked for better timing. He's feeling giddy, excited, and most of all enraged. There's an alien invasion raining down on Earth. The Justice League is already deployed, and Clark is going to show the League who exactly they messed with. Flying at top speed, not bothering to slow down over cities to not break windows with his sonic boom, he makes it to the scene of the main invasion in record time.

He doesn't even slow down enough for the League to register he is there. Clark flies straight to one of the alien ships, crashing into it, tearing it apart. He watches as it smokes, falling to the ground. People are screaming below and Clark does nothing, ignoring the frightened sounds of fleeing civilians.

The ship stops suddenly and with amusement, he observes Diana lifting the aircraft, saving the crowd below. The Amazonian warrior looks right at him. Clark wonders if Bruce has said anything to them yet about him knowing what's been going on. He wonders if Bruce has had sex with any of them yet. "Superman!"

The lights from all the buildings surrounding them glint off her outfit. The princess is beautiful, Clark won't deny that, but that still doesn't give Bruce the right to sleep with her when the man is sleeping with him. He ignores Diana, turning to another ship. That one he punches until it starts going down, fire coming from one of its engines. Hal has to catch that one with his ring.

Clark laughs as he watches the League flail, trying to catch the ships that Clark takes down one by one. It's not long before every single one is destroyed by him. "Superman!" Clark looks over to who called him from where he is floating in the air. Bruce is standing there, staring up at him. Clark only smirks at the man and flies off to take more of the aliens down.

He knows he's being brutal. Knows he's being too violent or uncaring for the wellbeing of the extraterrestrials, but right now it feels good to let loose for a while, to do some _real_ damage. He doesn't care who gets hurt, human or alien. It's the ring, Clark knows, but he put the thing on for a reason and he isn't about to take it off.

Clark fights alongside the Justice League, taking the aliens out one by one, until there is a single alien left. Clark lands a few feet in front of it, reaches out, and grabs it by the neck. He pulls the thing to him, getting into its face. "You thought you could take control of the Earth?" The alien cowers and Clark smirks. His eyes turn red, getting ready to use his heat vision. "That was a stupid idea."

"Superman!" Clark's smile falls at hearing Bruce's voice, the soft thud of feet letting him know the man is behind him. He rolls his eyes, annoyance quickly building in him. He can hear the other Justice League members coming up behind him as well but none say a word. "Calm down!" Bruce orders.

Something in Clark snaps. Pure rage erupts in his chest and with eyes red, he drops the alien, turns around with a growl, and grabs a hold of Bruce by the neck, squeezing. "Calm down?" he screams, narrowing his eyes and bringing Bruce close to him. Bruce's hands come up to Clark's wrist, grabbing a hold of it tightly. "You want me to calm down?" All of the anger that he had been trying to bottle up rises in his chest, exploding out of him. His breathing quickens and his teeth clench. "How dare you tell me to calm down." The Justice League is looking on, as if not knowing what to do. "Who the hell do you think you are, treating me the way you did? Betraying me." Clark looks around at the Leaguers. "All of you!" His eyes are burning with his effort at holding back his heat vision. His eyes travel back to Bruce. "I hate you," he says with teeth clenched. "So don't _you_ tell _me_ to calm down." Clark gets even closer to Bruce. "You can go straight to hell."

One of Bruce's hands leaves Clark's wrist. "Like I said Superman." Bruce gives him a strained smile, breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Calm down."

Abruptly, the feeling in Clark changes from rage to agonized pain. Bruce holds up the hand that had left Clark's wrist, the red kryptonite ring held between forefinger and thumb. The hurt Clark had felt before putting the ring on, hits him like a tidal wave. The breath is knocked out of him and he drops Bruce as he backs up, crumpling in on himself. He falls to his knees, holding his stomach as he bows, tears pooling and spilling from his eyes. He whines pathetically. Clark's bottom lip quivers and heavy boots stand in his vision. He looks up slowly, shoulders shaking with his sobs. Bruce is looking at him with the utmost disappointment Clark has ever seen on the Bat's face.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Bruce asks, throwing the ring down beside Clark. Clark watches the thing clinking on the ground, rolling beside him until it stops, the red gem facing and glinting at him as if to mock him.

Clark looks back at Bruce, at the face of judgement, and suddenly gives up. His shoulders droop and he bows his head to the ground, not even bothering to try and cover up his crying. He hears Bruce huff and then his boots turn. "Pathetic," comes from the man. Clark doesn't watch him go and he doesn't bother meeting any of the other Leaguer's eyes.

He listens to them leave, one by one. First it's Arthur which really isn't any surprise to Clark. Hal is next, the man's shoulders shrugging loudly in Clark's ears. The next one to leave is Diana but Clark hears the hesitation in her steps. Barry lasts a lot longer than the previous three, the man watching Clark sob his eyes out. The speedster opens his mouth to speak but is quickly closed. With a sigh, Barry leaves as well. J'onn is the last one. The Martian is the only one Bruce hasn't slept with as far as Clark knows. He wonders if Bruce had tried to get in bed with J'onn and the alien had just denied the man, or if Bruce hadn't of even bothered.

J'onn stands there watching Clark as Clark tries to pull himself together. It's embarrassing to be crying in the middle of a battle ground and so he wipes at his eyes vigorously, angry at himself for such a meltdown. Clark struggles to stand, feeling exhausted, all the while J'onn's eyes never leave him. When Clark is standing, the Martian approaches him. "Kal-El."

"Please J'onn," Clark says, stopping the alien. "I know you can feel what I am feeling but I don't want to talk about it. I just want to be left alone."

J'onn's eyes search his face and then nods once. The alien bends over, picking up the ring. "I will keep this somewhere safe." He, too, is then gone.

Looking around himself, Clark sees the carnage that was dealt by him. Aliens lie strewn all around and their ships are in tatters. Clark runs a hand down his face. A crowd is starting to form and though normally he would be the one to address the press, he is in no mood to do so now. He flies off before any of them can get near him, going back to the Fortress. Once there, he heads to the bedroom again.

As Clark steps into the room, he looks at the bed. All the memories intrude into his thoughts once more but he ignores them. Crawling into the bed after taking off his Superman uniform, he pulls the covers up close to his chin and cocoons himself in them. He stares at the crystal wall. Clark is certain he isn't going to be able to sleep but he doesn't want to be up either. So he decides to lie there, remembering all the times he was happy to be with Bruce. Happy that the man actually loved him back. What a lie that had turned out to be.

Just as he is about drifting off deep into his own thoughts, one of the AI bots comes over to him. "Sir? There is someone here to see you."

With a sigh, Clark gets up, debating with himself as to why he is even going to go see who it is. The only two people that would be able to get into the Fortress is Bruce and Diana, and Clark doesn't really feel like seeing either of them. Still, if he doesn't go to them, then they will come to him and he wants that even less. He puts his uniform back on and follows the AI out, taking his time walking. He wants to go back to bed.

Clark is a little surprised to see Bruce instead of Diana when he reaches the entrance of the Fortress. His eyes immediately narrow but he can't manage to muster up the energy for anger. "What do you want?" he asks with as much contempt in his voice as he can manage.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine. There's the door." Clark turns, starting to walk away.

"Clark." Clark stops but doesn't turn. "I'm…" Bruce clears his throat. "I'm sorry."

Clark swallows. He slowly turns around to look at his once best friend. "Excuse me?"

"You're going to make me repeat it?" Clark huffs and shakes his head, turning to leave again. "Wait," Bruce calls. Clark looks at the man. "I am…" Bruce clears his throat again, "sorry that I gave you the impression that we were anything more than friends."

Clark stares at him in astonishment. Bruce must be fucking crazy. "You really expect me to accept that bullshit of an apology?" Bruce shrugs. "Fuck you."

"Kal." Clark clenches his hands together, tight fists on each side of him as Bruce continues to speak. "I shouldn't have lead you on. I know this. I knew this. I did it anyway. I wasn't… I wasn't deliberately trying to hurt you. You're my friend Clark."

"Not anymore."

Bruce flinches the tiniest bit, head bowing. "I know." Bruce looks up. "I'm sorry I used you and that you got hurt. I should have been upfront with everything from the beginning, even if it meant you not agreeing to sleep with me."

"And you being an asshole to me once I found out? What the hell was that all about Bruce?" Clark wipes at his eyes with one of his fists.

"That… _was_ me deliberately trying to hurt you."

Clark shakes his head. "Why?"

"Because I wanted you to hate me."

Clark laughs humorously. "Of course."

"I thought if you hated me it would be easier for the both of us." Bruce is no longer looking at him and instead gazing at the crystal floor.

"Well congratulations Bruce, you didn't have to be an asshole in order for me to hate you. All you had to do was sleep with the whole League while also sleeping with me." Bruce nods, licking his lips. "And what? You're here to just rub salt in the wound by apologizing to me? What were you expecting from coming here?"

It takes a minute before Bruce answers, the man not meeting Clark's eyes. "Seeing you resort to red Kryptonite made me realize that I don't… want to ruin our friendship Clark. I've always… I've always cherished our friendship and it… it hurts to know that we don't have that anymore."

"Well you should have thought about that before you had sex with everyone you could." Clark scrapes a hand down his face, shaking his head. "Rao Bruce, I love you and I gave everything for you, for the League, and all of you, _all of you_ , betrayed me."

Bruce shrugs, finally looking up. "I don't know what you want me to tell you Clark, I don't love you the way you do me."

"I don't care about that!" Clark interrupts, not meaning to yell. "I had accepted that long before this whole thing happened. But once you took that step over that line, Bruce, I… I thought you finally did. So it's not about you not loving me. It's about the deception and the lying and the manipulation. It's about you deciding that it would be okay to sleep with me and not even tell me that it wasn't serious, and that you were going to sleep with other people. Do you even understand how stupid and pathetic that makes me feel?" Clark shrugs. "I feel like such an idiot. Because why would you, _you_ , of all people fall in love with me? I feel like I should have known better. That I was just some laughing stock, some joke, for all of you." Clark closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Did you also come here to try and convince me to go back to the Justice League?"

Bruce nods. "Yes."

"Did it have anything to do with our friendship at all?"

"Of course it did."

Clark isn't sure whether or not to believe the man. "I can't Bruce. Go back there. I can't be around them and you all the time, knowing what you all are doing. I just can't."

Bruce has started avoiding eye contact again. "And our friendship?"

Clark looks to the floor. "I don't know."

When Clark gazes at Bruce, the man is looking at the floor as well, nodding with lips thinned. Bruce's eyes snap up to his and they lock together. "Maybe some day?"

Clark searches Bruce's face for genuineness but as always, Bruce hides emotions well. "Maybe," he whispers, low and sad.

Bruce nods once, takes a deep breath, and straightens out. The Bat looks around the room before locking eyes with Clark once more. "Bye Clark."

Bruce turns but Clark's heart pulls at the vigilante. He hasn't been entirely innocent today either. "Bruce," he calls, stopping the man. Bruce turns slightly, looking back but not directly at Clark. "I'm sorry about calling you broken. I didn't mean it. You're not." Clark shrugs. "I wouldn't love you if you were." Bruce doesn't say anything, still doesn't meet Clark's eyes. Instead the man nods minutely, turning back around and walking away.

Clark watches his friend, feeling the pull in his chest to run after the man, forgiving like he has done so many other times. But he won't. He can't. Not this time. Not when Bruce has hurt him this much. Grief builds in his chest and spills over the edge as his former friend's back disappears. "Bye Bruce."

 **~The End~**

 **A/N: Thanks for reading!**


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